Humiliation and Salad Pimping

For the love of God, has the entire world gone mad?!

Is it just me, or has this been dubbed Freak the Hell Out Week and I just missed the memo?

Because seriously.

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So I went to lunch yesterday (Wendy's, naturally) because I needed a one dollar salad more than can possibly be expressed in words. I'm walking in the side door to the place, while at the same time this guy is going out. It's one of those two door deals that I never really understand, where you go through one into the tiniest non-room in existence and then go through the next to the outside world. We each make it through our respective first doors and go to walk around each other.

The guy stumbles, however, and bumps into me. This jostles the 5-piece chicken nugget package that he is holding, and one of them falls on the floor.

"Ooh, sorry man. That sucks" I say. He looks at me and makes this ridiculously disgusted face.

"You know what?!" he snarls. "Just FORGET IT!" And then he dramatically throws down the container of nuggets, littering my feet with tiny bits of nugget and nugget-covering, tosses his hair and then storms out of the restaurant, somehow slamming the pneumatic door behind him.

I sort of stand there for a moment, all very 'what the hell just happened' and look to the side and see that all is not well. Lunch has come to a virtual standstill inside as everyone has paused (in some cases literally mid-bite) to stare at me and the scene that I have obviously created. There is a small child standing in line pointing at me and tugging on his mom's skirt.

It's a very big deer-in-the-headlights moment. I have the insane urge to defend myself, to yell to the crowd "I didn't do anything! That guy was crazy! He bumped into me! Stop it! Stop judging me!" But realize that this will only worsen the situation. I shake my feet free of the chicken bits, resolve not to be chased away from my lunch by a nugget-thrower or these starers and get in line.

Dude in front of me in line: "What'd you say to him?!" All accusing-like.

"Nothing! He bumped into me and freaked out." I am the model of wounded innocence.

He looks down at my now very dirty shoes, all condescending: "Whatever, man." I have the intense urge to get into a fight in the Wendy's line, but have the feeling that somehow if I did it would end up being shown on Cops and somehow I would find myself on television without a shirt on running through the back alleys of Dallas with a blur over my face.

I hate people.

But the salad that followed was still delicious. Tasty tasty humiliation.